Fever
by Anybodys
Summary: Leia's sick, so Han goes and checks on her.  Yeah, it's a lame summary, but that's really all I can say.


It was almost enchanting to watch her sleep. No, he had not barged in nor had any motivation to do anything to her; he, although he would never admit it, was worried.

Worried about her, to be exact. Her skin was flushed, a very pallid contrast from the normal peach it was. Black clouded under her eyes, giving an appearance as if she hadn't slept for days, which wouldn't be surprising if it were so. As he watched, she thrashed about in her sleep.

He had always loved her soft, brown eyes, especially when they blazed during arguments; but now they looked weak and glassy, hidden underneath twitching eyelids.

The worse part about it though was the toll it was taking on her energy. Usually, the energy inside her was so well-kept it stored up until Han came. Then it erupted, lashing out as an argument. He rarely ever took her insults personally, but even when the insults whipped at his ego he came back the next day—maybe the next hour—for another fight.

The previous day, though, when Han provoked her, she merely gave a stare that almost—_almost—_made him regret it at the moment. But watching her twist up in the sheets now made him pity her.

Leia was sick. That all there was to it. It was nothing serious, but it bothered Han to a point where he couldn't sleep.

As if he ever slept in the first place. But what bothered him the most is that Leia never got sick or hurt. No, she was a woman of noble, stubborn stature. Not a person to fall, needing the care of someone else.

Han believes even to this day that that's the reason for his attraction to her. Sure, there were other factors, but it was her almost outspoken attitude—maybe she _was _outspoken—that was her most appealing trait to him. She stood up for what she believed in, making sure she was heard.

But now she barely even talked. Han rubbed his eye as Leia scrunched up into a little ball. Long brown hair, tangled and knotted, was thrown over her face, little spaces with no or a few strands of hair making spots of her face visible. Her small hands wrapped around her thin white legs as she twisted her head so it wasn't facing Han.

Sighing, he got up and placed a hand in her hair. Twisting his fingers in it, he leaned down ad breathed in the floral scent her hair always contained. Damn, he needed to know what she washed her hair with. It was almost intoxicating.

He was alone with the Princess. The princess that lost all her friends and family as well as her home but came out victorious with her fight against the Empire in a single day. The princess that wouldn't bite her tongue when speaking her mind but fell short when Han held her close. The princess, so noble and proud, lying ill on her bed.

She shifted again, Han yanking his hand out in time. She uncurled, straightening her legs out until she lie flat on her back with her arms askew.

Cautiously, he laid the back of his fingers on her forehead. She was burning up. He ached to pick her up and cradle her, but resisted the urge. Instead, he laid his cheek lightly on her forehead before tenderly kissing it.

He brought his hand up and brushed her hair back onto the mattress. Her puffy eyelids cracked open, her eyes hazily staring up at him. They seemed incomprehensive, but Han told her to go back to sleep anyways.

She kept staring though. Han gave a weak smile as he told her once again to go to sleep. Her eyes seemed to be growing more alert until, with slurred speech, she asked why he was here.

Responding, he told her he was just checking on her before finally fulfilling his previous urge by lifting her up. Placing her head on his chest, he then pulled her legs over his lap. Wrapping his arms around her, he cradled and rocked her slowly, his chin resting on her head. Flames from her fever licked fiercely through his clothes, but he didn't stop rocking her until much, much later when he slumped against the wall and fell asleep himself.

In the morning, Luke, checking on the Princess, peered inside the room to see Han, who had toppled onto the pillow, and Leia resting peacefully on him. Her arms were twisted at an angle where it looked like she hugged his neck, and Han's arms the same but around her waist.

Smiling, Luke left them be, and it was not until an hour or two later when Han opened his eyes. Gently putting Leia's head on the pillow, he straightened her body and left, leaving her to wonder whether last night was a dream or not.


End file.
